Twenty Cents
by Sparker
Summary: Look beyond the circumstances. It's what you don't know that makes all the difference.


**[Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies. Poor me, right? Right.]**

Twenty Cents 

The day was hot and sunny, the heat so intense it ripped right through you, leaving a person breathless and woozy. Of course, here I was, working double time at Tibby's. The room was stuffy, _this close_ to becoming unbearable. I was counting the minutes until my shift was over.

I had ended up working at Tibby's, now, after I became to old to be a newsie. Twenty now, I was. Jack Kelly, twenty years old and working in a restaurant. Course, Mr. Tibby was nice enough, giving me this job and all, from what he knows from my history. I should be thankful. But in this heat, my patience is worn thin as tissue paper.

I was in a foul mood, and the equally crabby customers didn't make it an easier. Wiping a table smeared with grease, I glanced at the clock. My shift was over in ten minutes. 

Then the bell to the door clanged, and a little boy walked in. He was ten, maybe – Les' age. Scruffy looking, too, with patched pants and worn shirt, faded newsboy hat pushed back on his dirty blond curls. I went behind the counter to take his order, sticking the dishtowel in my apron. 

I still couldn't believe that I was wearing and apron.

"Er – " I began, distracted for a minute by Sarah walking in the door. Waving slightly, I got back to the kid. "Hello, there. May I take your order?"

"Um…" The kid said in a small voice, slipping his hand into his pocket and pulling out a handful of change. "How much is a small ices?" 

I turned around to look at the board behind me. "Five cents."

"And a bigger one?" He asked again.

"Ten cents."

Frowning, he picked through the coins in his hand. 

"How much again for the small one?"

Astonished, I stared at the little anxious face before answering. "Five cents..?" It was like a question. Hadn't I just told him before?

"And the bigger one is ten cents, right?" He said, fingers sliding thought the metal. 

"Right." Ok, this was getting annoying. And my shift was almost over, too. If this kid took much longer I would have no time to clean up.

"Hmmm." He muttered, still counting his coins. Then he looked up. "And if I get a small Coke, how much then?"

Angrily, I clenched my teeth and willed myself not to snap. The heat was getting to me, _but what was with this kid?_

"A small ices and a Coke?"

"Yes."

"Fifteen cents."

"And a larger ices and a drink?"

"Listen, kid, can't you figure it out by yourself? Twenty cents."

His face looked stricken as I snapped at him, and for a moment he stared at his money with an angry expression. But just as suddenly, the anger was gone and he looked resolute, like he had come to a decision and wasn't going to change his mind.

"Alright then." He said hesitantly, throwing five pennies and a dime on the scratched counter. "A small ices and a drink."

"Coming right up." I rolled my eyes when my back was turned, scooping out the ices from a container in the ice box and placing that and a frosty drink in front of the kid. He looked down and unscrewed the cap, avoiding my eyes.

Now I was really ticked off. The kid had taken almost ten minutes to decide what the heck he wanted, and now I would have to work overtime to finish cleaning up, before Mr. Tibby came back. 

I attacked the tables and floor with an angry energy. Sarah was already gone – who could blame her? No one wanted to be in Tibby's longer than they had to. Except if they had something cold to drink. I looked back over my shoulder at the kid. He was finishing up his ices, the metal spoon scraping the glass plate. His bottle was empty.

Frowning, I swept the last of the dirt into the garbage and flipped the chairs onto the tables. Five more minutes, I told myself. Five more minutes, and then I can leave. And I could have left earlier if not for that _stupid kid_. I thumped a chair a little too hard on the table from my frustration and sneezed as the dust clouded up.

Finally, I was done. Tired and hot as hell, I jogged behind the counter and threw off my apron, aiming for the coat rack. I missed. Ah, well. I'd get it tomorrow.

One last thing I remembered right before I shot out the door. The kid's plate and bottle. I slip my hand down the counter to grab them, already thinking of what to do with my night, when I heard something jangle. Looking down in surprise, I saw a few coins lying in the empty ices plate.

I fished them out and counted them. He left me a tip? No, more than that. And when I realized what it was, I was flooded with shame…and awe for that scrawny little kid. Smiling, a clenched the coins in my fist and walked out into the waiting sunlight.

That kid had left me twenty cents of his own, hard earned money. Just enough for a large ices, and frosty Coke.


End file.
